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I’m sure this is for Harper’s benefit, but I tell her again in as friendly a tone as I can muster. The dude doesn’t acknowledge what I say. Doesn’t even grunt.

Asshole.

The air is thick with this awkward-as-fuck silence, which makes the elevator’s ascent painfully slow. Donny stands in front of me, eyes steady on the doors, and I stare daggers at the back of his head. It’s about all I can do since I don’t want to push the guy farther into Angry Town. My simply breathing seems to do a great job by itself.

There are only three days until the trade deadline, and rumors are swirling about where I’m headed. My agent doesn’t have any news, but to listen to the so-called insiders, I’m getting traded to Ottawa, Colorado, or Minnesota. The good news? Good teams want me. But the problem with those particular places? They’re all land-locked. Sure, Minnesota has ten thousand lakes, but they’re lakes! No sea air, no open ocean. Winding up in any of those spots would suck big-time.

My stomach has been tied in a perpetual knot for the past week. The upheaval caused by the last trade was mind-numbing, and I’m finally feeling comfortable in my new setting—except for the Harper situation. I don’t want to get bounced again anytime soon.

To distract myself, I move my gaze to the back of Jackie’s head. The elevator’s lighting is dull, but those pretty blond filaments threading through her strands catch what light there is and reflect it. Her hair looks so silky, so touchable. Correction: It is so silky, and I remember every detail of how it feels between my fingers. I nearly clench my fists to keep said fingers in check.

Damn, she was cute today when I surprised her with the ride and the new tires. Helping her almost made me giddy. How ridiculous is that? I did wait for her to get off work, keeping watch from about a block away, but between that and replacing her tires, I didn’t want to creep her out. I’m keeping that detail to myself so she doesn’t think I’m stalking her. Which I’m not. My behavior is out of concern for her well-being, though it might look as though the line is blurring a bit.

Finally, my floor dings. “This is me,” I say so Harper will get out of my way. He obliges by taking a step to the side, and I shoot Jackie a quick glance. “Take care, Jackie.” I’ve almost cleared the doors when Harper growls, “Stay away from my sister, Chase.”

I don’t acknowledge the comment, I don’t look back, but I smile when I hear Jackie tell him to shut up as the doors whoosh closed.

Friday morning is finally here, and I’m loading my backpack after showering. Practice was grueling this morning, and my limbs quiver like spent rubber bands. At least the workout kept my brain from wandering to what could come down in the next hour, when the trade deadline is finally here. My agent, Herb, has been in contact with the Surge, but they’re playing things close to the vest. I could be on my way to a new team in an hour.

This. Is. Torture.

My teammates are cutting up all around me, taking good-natured jabs at one another and telling X-rated jokes. These days they include me in their reindeer games, but I’m not in the mood, and they must sense it because they give me a wide berth. Coach appears in the dressing room and barks my name as he motions for me to follow him. The chatter dies dead away.

Minutes later, I take a seat across from him while he closes the door and lowers himself into his office chair.

My heart hammers like it’s going to jump through my chest wall, and beads of perspiration dot my hairline, even though I washed them away mere moments ago. I lean forward in the chair, every muscle straining.

He picks up a stress ball and tosses it hand to hand. Wish I had one of those right now. “I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on behind management’s closed doors, so I thought I’d take the mystery out of it.”

Breath stutters in my lungs, or my heart stops. I’m not sure. Either way, I can’t breathe as I anticipate what comes out of his mouth next.

“The higher-ups and I are disappointed you and Harper haven’t buried the hatchet. He wears the A and will someday replace that with the C. He’s a leader in the locker room, a guy the boys respect.”

“I get it,” I interrupt, not wanting him to drone on again about how fucking awesome Golden Boy is. “He’s a franchise player, and he stays. Guys like me are expendable.”

Coach puts down the ball and leans forward, arms folded on his desk. His movements are deliberate, as if he’s taking time to formulate his response. A smirk appears on his face. “You think you’ve got this all worked out, don’t you, Chase?”

“Isn’t it obvious? We don’t get along, and I’m the guy who gets moved.” I’m dying to ask where I’m going, but he holds up a hand to stop me.

“Here’s the thing. Yeah, you don’t get along, but I’ve been watching you, and I see you trying to smooth things over. Your teammates see it too, and they’ve been filing in here sticking up for you. Your captain has been especially vocal.” He picks up the ball and squeezes. “I don’t know what the beef is between you and Harper, but I aim to get to the bottom of it. Did you tap his sister or something?”

The question has me practically throwing myself against the back of the chair, but I swing in a different direction. “My teammates have been talking to you?”

Coach nods. “They want you to stick around. So do I. You bring that grittiness this team needs, and it’s not easy to find—especially when you consider you’re one of the best face-off men in the league. Now what did you do to piss off Harper?”

A knot forms in my throat, and I swallow it down. “I didn’t sleep with his sister.” But I sure as hell want to. “I’ve talked to her a few times, but that’s it. Even if I was interested, she’s completely off-limits.”

Coach raises one skeptical caterpillar eyebrow. “Are you using her to try and get back at him?”

Air whooshes from my lungs on an exhale. “You’ve got this all wrong, Coach. I barely know her. Harper made it clear he hated my guts from the minute I stepped into that locker room last year. This has nothing to do with his sister. To be honest, I have no idea what it has to do with.”

Coach sits back, laces his fingers behind his head, and assesses me as if he’s trying to decide whether I’m lying. “All right, let me lay it out for you. We got a lot of calls about you, but management has decided not to trade you. For now. That doesn’t take away the fact that you two are going to have to come to some kind of agreement. Harper is a valuable asset, but so are you. It may not seem like it with the record we’ve got this year, but we’re building something special here, and I see you both as part of that. But team chemistry is everything, and we’ll never make it past the first round of the playoffs if that’s not clicking on all cylinders. I don’t need you to be buddy-buddy, but if you can’t find a way to put aside your differences, one of you isn’t going to be playing for this team next season.”

Relief eases my bunched-up muscles, and though the reprieve is temporary, I probably have a few more months before my fate is set. There’s time to adjust course.

I nod. “That player sure as hell isn’t going to be Harper.”

“Most likely not.” He gives me a dismissive wave. “Go get yourself ready for tonight’s game.”